Random Stuff
March 31, 2008 at 10:51 pm | In Declan, Random | 4 Comments
1. Declan now likes to stick his legs through the bars of the crib (despite a bumper pad) and then scream. I’m pretty sure he can get out if he tried, but unlike my if-I-leave-Patrick-down-in-the-sewer-grate-long-enough-he’ll-either-get-skinny-enough-to-get-out-or-activate-his-tiny-brain-and-figure-it-out attitude, I feel like a bad parent if I leave Dec in there to figure it out on his own. And his legs are very chunky, so they may legitimately be stuck.
2. We’ve joined a gym. By “we”, I mean Kevin and me. We joined on Saturday, and so far, I’ve gone twice. Kevin has yet to go. He said that he didn’t want to work out and “be sore for my surgery on Monday”. Umm, I wasn’t aware that abs, glutes, and pecs (that’s all the muscle group words I know) are involved in holding little tweezer things and looking through a microscope. But whatever, I know that if I mention it to Kevin’s coworker (another doctor who is obsessed with health and fitness), Kevin will go to the gym just to get Todd off his back.
3. Dissertation is going well (for once). There is an end in sight. Pretty soon, I may start wearing horn-rimmed glasses and making all of you call me Dr. Tara. Right now, I’m going to keep wearing my contacts and you can just refer to me as Almost Dr. Tara.
4. I’ve got two job interviews in hopes of returning to the field of school psychology. Of course, I have to convince one of these school districts to hire me part-time, even though they only have full-time positions available. Maybe being known as Dr. Tara, instead of Almost Dr. Tara, would help with this.
5. I’m reading a really good book called Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult (it’s fiction). Nineteen minutes is the time it took for one seventeen year-old boy to walk into his high school with several guns and kill 10 people. Very well-written, and highlights the importance of teaching your kid not to be a bully. Because karma, my friend, can be deadly.
6. I’m on a quest to get the people in this neighbhorhood to recycle (Stephanie). Some people (Stephanie) just store their kid’s outside toys in their recycle bin. I’m hoping to guilt these people (Stephanie) into springing for a plastic container from Target and actually using their recycle bin for the purpose in which it was made. Maybe I can shame her—I mean, them, into doing it. I mean, I won’t call her an “earth-killer” to her face or anything, but I just might think it.
And that’s all I have for today. Peace out.
So literal
March 29, 2008 at 10:01 pm | In Savannah | 2 CommentsConversation with a two-and-a-half year old:
Me: Savannah, get your shoes on. We’re getting in the car and going to the store.
Savannah: Mommy, can I have a snack?
Me: I’m getting one for the car.
Savannah: Mommy, I need a snack, not the car.
Me (laughing): Oh, okay. I’ll get you one then.
Damnyankee
March 28, 2008 at 9:41 pm | In Living in the south | 3 CommentsThe other day, while listening to National Public Radio, I heard a news story regarding the great influx of northerners who are coming to live in the south. One speaker, an older woman who was born in the north and moved to Charlotte over 20 years ago, feels that she is still regarded as an outsider.
My friend Stephanie moved to Charlotte from New Jersey when she was in the eighth grade. She told me a story recently about an experience she had when she was enrolled in the public middle school, shortly after her move to Charlotte. Hopefully I’ll get the gist of it right, but if not, please correct me, Stephanie.
A teacher, in the middle of a lesson, asked Stephanie if she knew the difference between a Yankee and a Damnyankee (I googled the term “damnyankee”, apparently it’s one word, not two). When Stephanie said no, she replied, “A Yankee is a Northerner, and a Damnyankee is a northerner who comes to the south to stay”. Stephanie replied, “Well, I guess I’m a Damnyankee then”. The teacher responded by sending Stephanie to the principal’s office for saying the word “damn” in class.
Maybe I’m ignorant to the derogatory nuances of the word Yankee, but I find the term humorous.
I found the following on the internet:
You might be a Yankee if . . .
1) You think barbecue is a verb meaning “to cook outside”.
2) You don’t have any problem pronouncing, “Worcestershire sauce” correctly.
3) You don’t see anything wrong with putting a sweater on a poodle.
4) You would rather vacation at Martha’s Vineyard than Six Flags.
5) You would rather have your son become a lawyer than grow up to get his own TV fishing show.
6) Instead of referring to two or more people as “y’all”, you call them “you guys”, even if both of them are women.
7) You don’t think Howard Stern has an accent.
8) None of your fur coats are homemade.
9) You have never planned your summer vacation around a gun-and-knife show.
10) You think more money should go to important scientific research at your university than to pay the salary of the head football coach.
11) You eat fried chicken with a knife and fork.
12) You don’t have any hats in your closet that advertise feed stores.
13) You call binoculars opera glasses.
14) You can’t spit out the car window without pulling over the side of the road and stopping.
15) You would never wear an applique sweatshirt.
16) You don’t know what applique is.
17) You have no idea what a polecat is.
18) You don’t know anyone with two first names (i.e. Joe Bob, Billy Bob, Kay Bob, Bob Bob)
19) You’ve never had grain alcohol.
20) You get freaked out when people on the subway talk to you.
21) You’ve never, ever, eaten Okra.
Yep, I’m a Yankee.
Open Skies, Fireflies
March 27, 2008 at 11:13 pm | In Day to Day | 1 CommentTonight I was invited to a meeting at my neighbor Lou’s house. She’s started a new organization called “Open Skies, Fireflies”. Her rationale for starting the group is this:
As wives and mothers, we get lost in the day-to-day tasks of managing our homes, our families, and for some, a career outside the home. We forget about the young women we once were who set personals goals and said/thought things like, “Someday, I want to visit Africa and climb a mountain”, and struggle just to carve out a hour or so a week to do something that fills us with joy and excitement. Our identity begins to merge into our husband’s and our children’s. We stop developing outside interests and hobbies, despite the fact that our husband and children dedicate time and energy to outside pursuits.
Lou’s goal was to form a group of women, who, once a month, will carve out time to do something fun and exciting. Something that will bring us outside our zone of comfort. We all brainstormed ideas, some of which included: camping, a self-defense class, white-water rafting, geo-tracking, going to the opera, snowtubing, rock climbing, etc. We also had more relaxing ideas such as learning to knit, wine-tasting, taking a cooking class, or taking a zumba class. I made it very clear that I will not be jumping out of any planes (unlike my sister-in-law, Cheryl).
Our first activity is planned for April 25—camping for one night. There, we hope to get to know everyone in the group better, as well as enjoy some other activities like boating and hiking. For those of you who know me, you know that my style of camping consists of, well, hotelling. But for the pursuit of the empowerment of women, I’m going to go. And you never know, I may actually sleep better bunking outside, without a baby monitor next to my head.
Decky Doodle
March 25, 2008 at 10:32 pm | In Declan | 6 Comments
Our nickname for Declan is “Decky Doodle”. I don’t know why, it just fits him, and it rolls off the tongue. Decky Doodle, Decky Doodle. See?
He is still not crawling. Well, not officially. But he can definately move well enough to get into plenty of trouble. Today while I was on the phone with Mer, he scooted on his bum from the middle of the kitchen floor to the wall, where he proceeded to pull the tray that the cat food is on onto his lap and put one hand in the food bowl, and the other in the water bowl. Big mess. Then, after placing him back in the middle of the floor, he made his way to a book laying on the floor and proceeded to rip out a couple of pages (Savannah, I am sorry about your Winnie-the-Pooh book, but Mommy had to catch up on Aunt Mer’s love life). Savannah never did these things. In fact, I know she has never once ripped any pages out of a book. Wore them out from reading the same story over and over (hello, The Lion King), but never ripped them. Though maybe I neglected her less—I mean, talked on the phone around her less.
Although he gets into plenty of trouble at home, he also had incident that caused me much embarrassment at Savannah’s preschool today. I stopped off at the School Director’s office (her name is Cheri) to discuss Savannah’s class placement. Now, for all those out there who haven’t seen Decky in a while, the kid is big. Like, he’s 8 months old and weighs about 22 pounds (Savannah was about 18 months before she cleared 20 pounds). And he can be very squirmy. So, I set him on the floor in the Cheri’s office. Well, he made his way over to a canvas bag laying on the floor. Spilling out of the bag was a big pile of papers. At some point in the conversation, I glance down, and see him gleefully waving the long straps of the bag around. Big gummy smile. Not even a speck of drool on his chin. No problem. About a minute later, I look down, and he had barfed all over the bag. All over it. Smelly yogurt-for-breakfast barf. So, I grab some tissues, strategically place my body between Decky and Cheri, and start to wipe it up. I realize that because the papers in the bag had fanned out onto the floor, every single piece of paper had been soiled. I mean, barf everywhere. I realize that the barf had soaked through several sheets of paper, and when I attempted to wipe it away, the paper was disintergrating in my hands. Decky is now chewing on the straps of the bag, methodically spreading his odiferous slime onto even more of this poor woman’s belongings. Meanwhile, I’m apologizing, and Cheri’s trying to be cheerful and carefree about it, but I’m pretty sure she’s thinking, “Get your barfy kid out of my office before he destroys more of it!”. But since it’s a preschool, and they have to be nice to children and their parents, she couldn’t say it.
On the plus side, he didn’t get a drop of barf on his clothes. When we left poor Cheri’s office, he looked very handsome. But I don’t know, I feel like his expression seemed a little—what’s the word?—triumphant.
Lemons
March 24, 2008 at 10:04 pm | In The husband | 2 CommentsThe other day, while Kevin was out of town, he fell prey to the various movies offered on the hotel television. He had the pleasure of seeing the movie The Break-Up, starring Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn. During one of the opening scenes, Brooke and Gary (the names of the characters) are arguing. She had asked him to buy 12 lemons to be used in a centerpiece for a dinner party that night; he purchased about 6. He tells her she should abandon the centerpiece and use the lemons to flavor the chicken instead. She begs him to shower and get ready in the 10 minutes prior to the arrival of the guests. He tells her that after a long day at work, he just needs to relax (never mind that she worked too). After their guests leave, she asks him to help do the dishes; he spends the same amount of time it would have taken to do the dishes trying to convince her to leave them until the morning.
Around and around they went.
After watching that movie, Kevin (most likely due to the loneliness incurred by being separated from his family for a week) calls me and says, “The fight they had is exactly like fights we have!” (I’m surprised he recognizes this). He says, “I realize that I’ve really got to be better about things. I mean, I act just like him.” (No, don’t laugh. It gets better.) “I mean, all she was trying to do was to make a nice evening for him and their families, and he just wanted to sit on the couch, do nothing, and complain. She did everything.” (I know. I totally wondered if he used his prescription pad to write himself a script for some “happy pills”, too.)
I didn’t know how to respond. Laugh uproariously and interpret the entire conversation as a huge joke? I mean, what if I’m part of some candid camera show and millions of people are going sit in their living room and laugh at my naivete? Or should I stifle my doubts, accept his commentary as sincere and sit and wait for this new breed of man to spring forth from my husband? What to do, what to do. Well, if I remember correctly, I think I chuckled and implied that any improvement in his “before dinner party” behavior would be much appreciated.
I should have had Jennifer Aniston illustrate how frustrating “lazy man behavior” is a long time ago. Anyone who says chick flicks aren’t informative and life-changing should read this post. ‘Course, I haven’t actually witnessed him washing a dish since he got home last night. So, I’ll keep you posted on this new man I call my husband.
Update on Patrick
March 23, 2008 at 10:43 pm | In Patrick | 2 Comments
The End of an Era
March 23, 2008 at 10:12 am | In Day to Day, Savannah | 3 CommentsI’m in mourning today. My life has been altered drastically.
Savannah has figured out how to come out of her room in the morning, unprompted by a parent. Back in the days of old, I’d wake up to her singing a song such as “Old McDonald on a Farm” over the baby monitor. I’d stretch, feed the cat, take a shower, even blowdry my hair. Approximately 40 minutes after hearing “there’s a moo-moo here, and a moo-moo there”, I’d stroll down the hall to Savannah’s room, open her door, and say cheerfully, “Good morning, my angel!” She’d be sitting on her bed, thumbing through a book, waiting patiently for me to start the day.
That’s over. Now she starts my day.
I hear a thump over the monitor. This is the sound of her sliding down the side of her bed, hitting the floor. Another thump. This is her turning the lever on the doorhandle, and releasing it, causing it to snap back up into position. I’m laying in bed, tense, knowing what is coming next. Within seconds, a little face appears next to mine. Her hair is tousled, she is missing one sock, but she sports a huge grin and the imprint of a creased bedsheet on her face.
“What are you doing, Momma?”
“I’m sleeping. What are you doing?”
“I closed my eyes, and now they’re open! It’s morning!” (So cheerful. How did she get that way?) You take a shower now, Momma?” (To add insult to injury, apparently I smell.)
“Yes. I’ll take a shower.”
“I help you.” (She reaches out her hand to help me out of bed.)
So sweet. But did I mention that it’s 6:55 in the morning?
Living in the South: Ode to my neighbors . . .
March 21, 2008 at 8:21 pm | In Living in the south | 2 CommentsKevin is out of town this week. And he was out of town last week. In order to prepare Savannah for Daddy being gone so long, we told her how he was going on an airplane. Well, everytime she sees an airplane, she waves and says, “Hi Daddy!”. I wonder if she thinks his meetings are being held in the airplane, and they just fly ’round and ’round above our house?
Since Kevin is away, my neighbors have stepped up and greatly reduced the difficulty of being the only parent present. On Wednesday night, my friends Ellen and Mike (and their three cute kids) invited us over for pizza. Last night, Savannah was playing in the mud with her friends Nate, Adeline, and Ellie. As the witching hour approached (bedtime, ugh), and I realized that Savannah was covered head to toe with mud and would need a bath at the same time as Dec, my neighbors Stephanie and Lou sent me ahead to get Dec to bed before bringing a very dirty Savannah home. Then I had the luxury of spending time alone with Savannah while she ate dinner and had a bath. Natasha, our neighbor across the street, works as a realtor in the neighborhood, and we are forever crashing into her office (accompanied with the stroller, toys, and snacks) to chat with her while she holds Dec and Savannah colors with all of her office markers. Tonight, we had pizza with Stephanie’s family, Lou’s family, and Vicky and Erc. The kids played, Dec gummed the pizza crust, and once again, I left Savannah to continue playing while I put Dec to bed. Hmmmm, I don’t really need Kevin . . .
We feel very blessed to have such good neighbors. They are truly helping to make South Carolina feel like home.
Declan the “Rock” Star
March 19, 2008 at 1:30 pm | In Day to Day, Declan | 3 Comments
Put up the baby gates, cover the outlets, scan the floor for chokable items; Declan is very close to crawling. My baby boy has been “rocking” on all fours for about four days now. It’s coming . . . duh, duh, duh, DUH!
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